Alternative Ending
by SPG inc
Summary: An additional scene at the end of Joker- how Arthur Fleck might have gone about leaving his past behind and cementing his reputation as 'The Joker'.


To thine own self be true. He'd heard it long ago. Now he understood it. He understood everything.

That was the true cause of his life's misery. Blinded by society's expectation, he- like everyone in this joke of a world- had tried to be a person. That wasn't who he was. That wasn't what the world was. The world was one big free for all; a party gone wild; a chaos of creatures that, when not feigning a civilised status, ran riot through the streets in a display of lunacy put on for their own benefit.

The man once known as Arthur Fleck had thought himself a sideshow of life, to be ridiculed and despised by his betters. Now he'd found his calling- his innate ability to wash away the façade of reason and reveal the truth of the world.

This circus of madness was _his_ show. He was the ringmaster, the host, the showman.

And most of all, he was the _Joker_.

The Joker pivoted in place, reciprocating the gesture- putting on a show for his audience of rioters and anarchists as they put on a show for him, the fires of the surrounding buildings casting him in the spotlight, the resonating hubbub of a city in chaos a standing ovation.

"You're him, right?" the clown who'd pulled him from the squad car he now stood on asked. "The guy from TV?"

"That's right," said the other clown who'd helped. "Arthur Fleck!"

That annoyed the Joker. Who was this usurper stealing his thunder? Oh yeah, that had been the alias he'd been using before he'd come to his senses. That would never do.

"Would you guys like to help me with a little joke?" the Joker's voice was syrupy sweet, still savouring his new handle on life. The clowns nodded eagerly.

Then the Joker had leapt from the hood of the squad car and danced away- why was his dancing? Life was supposed to be fun. There was no room for the stuffiness of sense and reason here. He was going to enjoy this party.

The ambulance doors were thrown wide. The inside was mostly undamaged by the impact with the police cruiser that had been taking the Joker to the precinct. Lying on a gurney was another clown, delirious with painkillers and the clear blow to the head. He looked up from out of his clown mask and giggled vaguely.

"You're perfect!" the Joker almost wept with emotion- how easily everything fell into place for him now he was no longer pretending to be something he wasn't- that EVERYBODY wasn't.

"What's your name?" Joker bounded into the ambulance.

"J-Jack," stuttered the hurt clown. "J-Jack Nap-pier."

"It's a pleasure, Jack," Joker shook Jack's hand enthusiastically. "There's so many like you. So many fans I want to reach out to. But you- you I have something special in mind for."

Jack Napier gained a fragment of lucidity at the words.

"Fame's not all it's cracked up to be," Joker explained. "Image is everything. They judge you by your past, never letting you move on. I've tried but-" the Joker was cut off by an outburst of deranged, compulsive laughter. In the past he used to think he was laughing at nothing. But now he got the joke of life. He knew what he was laughing at. It made it so much easier to cope with.

"Alright, seriously Jack," another spurt of laughter. "I need you to stand in for me for a little while," Joker turned to lift a heavy piece of medical equipment. "Just for the rest of my life."

The Joker raised the machine over his head. Jack's eyes widened behind the mask.

"I need you to take the credit for me."

* * *

The Joker fired the shotgun in the air.

"Go to it kids! Party like there's no tomorrow!" he threw the shotgun he'd taken from the dead cops to the nearest clown mask-wearing reveller. "Do this right and there won't _be_ a tomorrow!"

With cheers and laughter, those nearest the Joker began to disperse, and the effect rippled outwards till the crowd was scattering in all directions like shrapnel thrown by an explosion.

"How's it going boys?" the Joker turned back to the two clowns. The men were just finishing their work- the body lying in the back of the squad car wore a red suit that had been ripped to conceal that it was far too tight. Clown makeup hadn't been available, so chemicals from the ambulance and paint from a nearby store had been improvised, but it was unlikely to be noticed amidst the damage- the head had been smashed by a single savage blow, completely removing any chance of identification through dental records.

"Ah, Jack," Joker said wistfully as he looked at the photo on the driving license he's found in the oversized jeans he was now wearing. "I'll never forget you for this."

Then he was running; a wild dash through the streets with the two clowns obediently following. It all went by in a blur of smashed in storefronts, burning vehicles and grinning clown faces. Laughing at him? With him? Didn't know- didn't care. Not anymore.

The slim figure ducked abruptly into an alley. The two clowns dashed around the corner, only to come skidding to a halt as they found the Joker waiting for them.

"Say, didn't I promise you two a joke?"

The gun taken from the dead police officer was an ugly, clumsy thing, hardly befitting of a man with such stage presence, but needs must. Two thunderclaps and the clowns ceased to be. The sky was painted red, and the Joker marvelled at his own art work.

Then he was walking, leaving his past behind. It wouldn't be easy. The past always came back to haunt celebrities. He'd have to get rid of it. Someone would have to identify the body in the police cruiser as Arthur Fleck. Gary sprang to mind. He'd help- he was his friend.

For the last time ever the Joker felt a stab of regret. He liked Gary. Making sure he'd take his secret to the grave would be a bad joke. But you know what they say.

_That's life._


End file.
